


Das Salz des Vergnügens

by melonbutterfly



Series: Kabalen und Liebe [2]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Language Kink, Long Distance Relationship, M/M, Mpreg, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-19
Updated: 2012-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-31 11:09:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/343404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonbutterfly/pseuds/melonbutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in an AU world wherein Charles and Raven were born roughly fifty years later than they actually were, but Erik was not. Instead, Erik and Emma killed Shaw and then Emma used Erik for her fight towards making mutants accepted within the human world. Twenty years after he has freed himself from her telepathic influence, Erik - an omega-level mutant who doesn't age - meets Charles, a telepath famous for standing up in school and fighting for a fellow mutant's rights. All Charles wants is to ask Erik what he thinks about his great plan to build a school exclusively for mutants, and possibly convince him to become a teacher; what he gets instead is, eventually, a boyfriend.<br/>This story is set two years later, when, in the middle of planning the school, Charles finds out about his secondary mutation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Das Salz des Vergnügens

**Author's Note:**

> Translations are in the notes at the end.

"Veränderung nur ist das Salz des Vergnügens." – Friedrich von Schiller

 

"No, seriously," Raven says, voice firm and resolute. Charles doesn't need to read her mind to know that she won't let him weasel his way out of it this time – not that he would be able to do so just now, he's too busy emptying the content of his stomach into the toilet bowl.

"This is the worst it has been so far," Raven says. "You've been throwing up on and off for a week now. You've _got_ to see a doctor." She doesn't know half of it, really, and for that Charles is glad. It's not as bad as she's making it out to be right now, he doesn't want to know what kind of fuss she'd make if she knew about how Charles sometimes just randomly gets overwhelmed by nausea. It's mostly the smell of eggs, really; he must have caught a mild, lasting stomach bug or something.

"It's not that bad," he croaks, gratefully taking the glass of water she hands to him to rinse his mouth.

"Charles, you walked into the kitchen, gagged, and ran out again to violently upchuck into the toilet! This is _not_ normal!" She's starting to sound genuinely upset, and Charles feels a little bad.

In a way, he knows she has a point, but they're just so damn busy – they're in the last stages of establishing the business plan for the school, just about to start searching for faculty. He just can't afford being ill right now, he's got planning committee meetings to attend to, lawyers to confer with, builders to supervise, donors to meet, and then there's all the opposition they still have to contend with. Raven is his Business Manager, she knows all this.

 _The builders are supposed to have been done for five weeks now,_ Charles tells Raven in his mind; he could say it, but his throat feels raw, and he'd much rather lean his temple against the cold tiles and try to breathe calmly, try to ignore the lingering sour taste in his mouth, the nausea still churning in his stomach.

"And you not going to the doctor will not make them be any faster," Raven returns firmly. "No. You're going, and that's final. If you won't, I'll quit."

Charles would roll his eyes if he weren't sure any kind of movement right now would make him start retching again. _You will not._

"I will." Raven's voice is pure steel, and he knows that tone; she uses it when she means it – or when she doesn't but will do it anyway just to prove a point. She's more stubborn than a mule at times.

Ah, well, it's not that big a deal anyway. Charles will check in with the doctor, maybe get some anti-nausea medicine, and be back within the hour.

*

"Okay, Charles," Dr. Winters says. He's been Charles' and Raven's doctor ever since they moved back to Westchester, which has only been about a year, but that doesn't matter much. Charles is a telepath; he can find out everything he needs to know about a person in under ten seconds. They will need a school doctor for when the school opens, but until then it's at least another year – more, if the builders don't pick up their pace and get done. And until then, Dr. Winters is more than enough; he has the qualifications to treat mutants, is competent enough, and he doesn't have much prejudice. That's all Charles really needs from his own personal doctor.

Not that he makes it a habit to read everybody's thoughts constantly; at least not those of people he already knows. He can't quite prevent being viscerally aware of surface thoughts of everyone in the vicinity, but he's learned not to pay too close attention.

That's why he's totally blindsided when Dr. Winters says, "The good news is, you don't have a stomach flu. The other news is, you have a second mutation."

Charles had figured as much when they had taken his blood three hours ago after he had spent half an hour in detail explaining all of his symptoms (fine, maybe he has been a little tired lately; he's trying to start a school, he's under stress, it's to be expected, he's sure). He had been tempted to check what Dr. Winters was thinking, but he had resisted as a lesson in self-discipline.

Upon this news, he doesn't resist anymore. Most people know nowadays that it's impossible to find a mutation upon the genetic profile of a person; the only way to discover one is if it's active. Up until now, Charles had never even considered having a second mutation; it hadn't manifested before today. Besides, if one would be really particular about it, technically he does have more than one mutation already. Telepathy doesn't usually include empathy. Surely that must be enough mutation for one person; there had never been a case of a tertiary mutation.

As far as he is aware, at least; Charles feels vaguely numb as he finds in Dr. Winters' mind just what ability it is he has apparently manifested. "I'm pregnant?"

"You have a high level of human chorionic gonadotrophin in your blood," Dr. Winters informs him, vaguely annoyed and rather exasperated that Charles read his mind, but not surprised. "As we can be moderately sure you don't have a tumor due to your full-body scan four months ago, the only other possible explanation is pregnancy. Of course, at this point, it's a theory. We'll need to make an ultrasound scan to make sure."

So they go do that. Charles follows Dr. Winters into another room and pliantly lies down on the bed. He's completely shocked; from Dr. Winters' mind he gleans that a male pregnancy hasn't been heard of yet, but in light of what kind of amazing mutations have come up in the past sixty years, Dr. Winters considers this a moderately wondrous one. At least he's not thinking about writing a paper on Charles.

He knows the moment Dr. Winters finds what he's looking for by the man's thoughts – a uterus, and in it, a tiny worm-like thing.

Wide-eyed, Charles stares at the screen, absently listening to both Dr. Winters' words and thoughts. He's _pregnant._

After allowing himself a moment of shock, Charles takes a deep breath, gathers his wits and lets Dr. Winters refer him to a midwife. He's lucky; Dr. Winters' wife turns out to be of that profession, and Dr. Winters makes sure he'll immediately get an appointment. Charles basically drives from Dr. Winters' office immediately to Dr. Landrieu's for his first appointment, which is favoritism, but he can't bring himself to mind under the circumstances. The more information he has the better – the less time he has to think right now.

Dr. Landrieu is a tiny woman who is a bit perturbed to have a man as a patient. She can't quite shake the feeling that it's unnatural – and Charles really can understand that – but she's utterly professional when she does her own blood test and ultrasound scan.

"You should be around eleven weeks," she tells Charles; inwardly she wonders how they can apply this way of counting the weeks when Charles doesn't menstruate (does he? Maybe without the blood, maybe-), and she's also absently noting down other details – hCG levels (Charles are in the high area of average, but what is average for a man?), weight and length of the baby (nine to ten grams, around five centimeters). And that is aside from how she's wondering how Charles' body managed to grow a uterus and especially why. Is there an emotional connection? Will Charles menstruate after birth (what if he decides to abort-)? What about breasts?

It's all a bit too much, really, and Charles shuts himself away from her mind, trying hard not to hyperventilate.

He maybe loses some time, because all of a sudden he's standing in front of his car, in his hand a bottle of vitamin supplements, another of folic acids, and a whole stack of brochures, helpful information and telephone numbers for doctors he could (and probably should) contact. The thing that Charles can't stop staring at, though, is the print-out of what he saw on the screen.

It's not a bean the way he's heard some of the pregnant women think of their own foeti; it doesn't look like one either, not even a particularly bumpy one. For just a moment, Charles would like to consider it as such, but it looks definitely human-like. Sure, the head is as big as the body, but there are some protrusions that definitely look like the beginnings of arms and legs. The legs, in fact, are quite pronounced. Definitely not a bean.

When Charles gets back to the manor – and he honestly can't really remember how he did that, which is probably not a good sign, he probably shouldn't drive right now – he avoids his office. Raven is in there, conferencing with their investors; technically they don't need any, Charles has more money than he could ever spend, but it's better business. At times, Charles wishes they would just have done it without them; things would be so much easier. This is one of those times.

His feet find their way to his private room on their own, but when he gets there he doesn't quite know what to do. So he sits down on his bed and starts reading through the brochures.

Not even halfway through, he puts them away, feeling vaguely faint; he honestly can't tell if the nausea that is churning in the pit of his stomach is due to pregnancy sickness – _pregnancy sickness,_ oh _god_ – or due to the swirling mix of emotions he feels.

It's very, very difficult to pin one of these feelings down, and he doesn't usually have that problem where his own emotional life is concerned. There's a lot of confusion and a fair portion of disbelief, no matter the physical evidence he has seen and _holds in his hand,_ not to mention in his stomach. He can't stop staring at the picture.

He's terrified and even angry somehow, though he can't really tell at whom or what, but it's the fear that predominates right now. He stares at the picture and tries not to think about how that is a tiny _human,_ how it's in his belly, how it will eat everything, drink everything- oh god, he's got to stop drinking; not that he's been drinking all that much lately except for the occasional two fingers of scotch during chess matches with Erik-

Erik.

Charles is _fine_ with Erik having left, he truly is. It's not him Erik leaves when he goes anyway; he just needed to get away for a while, be on his own, travel, the way he's spent the past what, twenty years? Charles honestly doesn't mind. He's lucky, he knows he's incredibly lucky that Erik even gives him the time of day, and he just wants to be with him. Time with Erik is a gift, and it's not at him to try to change a person. He wants Erik just the way he is, and if that includes needing to seclude himself every now and then, that's okay.

He'll be back, Charles knows this. He's been back every time he left before, and Charles knows it's because he _wants_ to be back. This time will be no different, no matter what Raven says. It's not like she hasn't been saying it again every time that Erik left anyway.

Charles knows how to reach him, if need be. He's just not sure that's the case right now.

It's about an hour later that Raven knocks on his door.

"Come in," Charles calls, glancing at the clock and blinking at how much time has really passed; he really doesn't know how that happened.

Raven is wearing an expression of deep worry, and for a moment Charles panics, thinking he might have been projecting, but of course he hasn't been; he hasn't done that accidentally since he was seven, and even before then, he only ever did it when he was physically hurt. Belatedly, he then realizes that of course she's worried; Charles told her he would come to the meeting after the doctor's appointment, and he hadn't. Furthermore, he had been gone way longer than had been planned to begin with.

"What's wrong?", Raven asks immediately, walking towards him. Her eyes drift off Charles' face and down to the bed. Sprawled around him are the brochures and the two pill bottles, and in his lap, he's holding the print-out.

Of course Raven recognizes what it is immediately. "What… is that?", she asks, very careful.

Charles bites his lower lip and then affects a nervous smile. "Turns out I have a second mutation!", he says with false cheer. "I'm pregnant!"

It's hysterical, the way Raven's eyes bug out. Charles doesn't need to read her thoughts (not that he makes a habit out of it anyway; she'd asked him years ago to not do that) to know what she's thinking when her eyes flicker back and forth between Charles' face and the photo of the baby. A _baby._ Dear god.

"You…"

"I'm serious," Charles interrupts before she can ask if he's kidding, the way he can see on her face she wants to.

Raven's face goes slack, and she sinks down on the corner of the bed, looking utterly blindsided. "Pregnant," she echoes after one long moment of silence.

Wordlessly, Charles hands her the picture, and she takes it, staring at it with a vaguely dazed expression.

"Around eleven weeks," Charles tells her when the silence stretches out between them. He really doesn't know what to do, what to expect of Raven; hell, he doesn't even know yet what he himself thinks.

"It's Erik's," Raven says after a moment; it's not really a question, but somehow it still is one.

Charles is honestly hurt by that question. He knows Raven doesn't agree with their relationship – though he hasn't yet really managed to figure out why; there is a great age difference between them, but that's really none of her business, and it's no big deal either. But no matter how little she actually thinks of Erik, that's no reason to basically ask Charles whether or not he's been cheating on his boyfriend. Sending Raven a withering look, Charles reaches out to snatch the photo back. "Yes," he snaps, cradling the paper to his chest. A moment later, he notices what he's doing, and the moment after that, he realizes what it means – he's protective, and possessive. No matter what he may think about his situation, it's clear that he has at least subconsciously accepted that this is his child, and he's going to keep it.

Without a second thought, he reaches out and takes a stack of brochures he has carefully not looked at before, the ones on abortion. Dr. Landrieu had told him cautiously that, should he choose to take that route, they obviously had never done it before and would have to figure out how first, but they could do it.

Well, they won't have to, now. Charles carelessly throws them off the bed, takes a deep breath and says, "I'm going to keep it."

Raven takes a deep breath as well, and then she reaches out and puts a hand on Charles' knee. "We can do this," she tells him, and her tone wavers a little, but he can tell she means it.

During the following week, they don't do much but research; Raven calls him coward a lot, but she shouldn't talk, she isn't the one who's pregnant and who's likely going to suffer through a bazillion of symptoms, one of them terrible nausea triggered not exclusively but always by eggs. At least Charles won't have to go through a natural birth; his hips just don't have the right shape and are too small to let a baby through, not to mention that he doesn't exactly have the required exit. Though who knows what his mutation will end up doing; it's apparent his body has decided to adapt on its own to the fact that he technically isn't supposed to be capable of carrying children. It might too adapt to the fact that he technically isn't capable of giving birth, though Charles really hopes not – being pregnant is more than enough to have to deal with, he doesn't want to think about growing a vagina on top of everything else. And while he's at it, he fervently hopes he won't grow breasts either.

Neither does he really want to think about telling the children, though he doesn't really have an explanation why. True, Hank doesn't really like Erik – rather, he's terribly intimidated by him – but Alex practically hero-worships him, and Sean isn't very far from it either. Angel and Armando are a bit more level with their appreciation of Erik, but they too like him, definitely. Really, Raven is the only one here who doesn't, so it doesn't make sense for Charles not to tell the children.

Which is why he only lets himself stall for six days before sitting them down in the main living room and telling them what's going on (the words "I'm pregnant" coming from his mouth will never get old, not really). As expected, they're shocked, then confused, and then happy for him, even if somewhat disturbed that Charles, being fully male, can get pregnant at all. And naturally, one of the first questions they ask – after the formalities (how?) have been explained as best as Charles can – is, "What does Erik think?"

Charles licks his lips and evades, "He's going to be a father." He doesn't really want to tell them that he hasn't told Erik yet; he doesn't want them to think they're fighting, or that something is wrong. Because there isn't, but Charles is well-aware that from the outside, his and Erik's relationship might sometimes seem a bit skewed. It's not; some of their needs are just not what's conventionally seen as "proper" for a relationship. According to contemporary romantic ideas, Erik shouldn't want to be away from where Charles is (even if not away from Charles, per se), and Charles should not be okay with him leaving. They are, though, and as seen with Moira MacTaggart, a friend of Charles' who currently isn't speaking to him because she does not approve of "the way Erik treats you, Charles, it's not right", it's hard to make other people believe that.

He doesn't want the children to think like that; they already are insecure because Erik leaves every now and then, though the latest time is the first time they have personally witnessed. Charles doesn't want them to think there's any instability between him and Erik, and not just because there isn't, but also because the children just need them to be steady, something to rely on. None of them have had great childhoods, and not necessarily because of their abilities; this is the first time they live in a place they actually can call home, where they're loved and accepted just the way they are. Charles just doesn't want them to think the home and the adults they're relying on are not as stable as they previously thought.

Thankfully, before they can ask any further questions, Raven involves herself, distracting them by saying, "I'm sure you can figure out that things are going to have to change a little around here. Charles can't work as much as before, but we're definitely going through with the school as planned, so we'll need a little more help from each of you, if possible."

Suddenly, it's really not okay that Raven spoke up; Charles does not at all agree with the part where he "can't work as much" anymore. He waits until the children have left some time later, excitedly discussing among themselves what they think of this, before bringing it up, though. "Raven," he says. "What was that about me not being able to work anymore?"

Raven raises an eyebrow and says, as if that's answer enough, "You're pregnant, Charles."

"Yes." Charles pinches the bridge of his nose; he can't believe he's actually having this conversation. Can he get any more cliché? "I'm pregnant, not ill. I'm perfectly capable of continuing to work as before; it's not like I have to do any heavy lifting or extreme sports."

"You're pregnant," Raven repeats impatiently as if that's the answer to everything. "And with you being a guy, this is a high-risk pregnancy already. You talked to the doctors, they said you have to be careful!"

"Because they're completely out of their depth," Charles returns, struggling to keep his voice even. "And I seriously doubt that sitting around in endless meetings or talking to people on the phone is going to be much of a strain on my body."

"But traveling around to meet potential investors or potential parents is." Raven's voice is sharp. "Every time you do that, you end up demonstrating your ability, and half the time, you end up coming back with a child already! And don't get me wrong, I love that they're here and I appreciate that we have to help them if nobody else will, but you can't do that part right now! They said that the first three months are the most dangerous, remember?"

Charles does remember that. He remembers everything he was told and read about in the past week, and sometimes, when it's dark and he's alone, he curls up around his middle and tries not to hyperventilate because so much can go wrong, so much can go wrong that they don't even know about especially with him because he's male, because his body wasn't biologically made for this. Maybe Raven is right, at least a little.

He deflates. "Yes, I remember. And I agree with the root of the idea, that I have to be careful, and I'm going to be! But you can't go over my head like that, especially not in front of the children. We have to talk about things first, Raven."

Raven's face is still pinched, but after a moment she nods. "I know," she concedes, only a little grudgingly. "And I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, it's just…" Suddenly she throws her hands up. "You're so cavalier with all of this!"

"What?" Charles can't believe what he's hearing. He's anything but cavalier; in fact, he regularly has to meditate so he won't freak out. That yoga phase Raven dragged him through has been helpful in many ways.

"You're all, 'oh well my body's going to change in a way it's biologically not supposed to, no big deal'! You act like nothing's going to change, but things will, they _have_ to!"

"I know, I know!", Charles interrupts loudly before she can go on. "Bloody hell. I know that, Raven! But would you rather I'm a gibbering wreck, terrified of even walking stairs because I could trip?"

A bit calmer, Raven shakes her head. "No. I don't… I'm here for you, Charles, so if you feel like you're about to become a gibbering wreck, tell me. But what I would like for you to do is to make some decisions – who's going to go talk to parents and investors? Because you can't do it anymore, and I can't do it either." She really can't; even if she weren't buried to the neck in bureaucracy and finance, she's not the most diplomatic person around. Somehow, Charles doesn't think that her verbally whacking people over the head is going to get them more investors, or more potential students.

"Warren," he thus says. He's thought about it already. "He said that if we ever need more help with the school, we should come to him. Well, we need help now."

Raven thinks about that for a moment. "Does he still think he owes us? He already deals with the legalese for free." For years after that day where Raven and Charles had stood up for him in school and revealed their own mutations, carefully kept secret until that day, Warren had felt like he was indebted to them, which naturally was completely ridiculous. They had made their own decisions, and yes, they had been triggered by what had happened to Warren, but when they had stood up for him, they had also stood up for themselves and for all other mutant children who were mistreated for being different.

"No." Charles shakes his head. "He wants to help because he believes in what we do."

"Okay, good. You'll talk to him, then?"

Charles nods. "You'll have to coordinate with him who to visit when, and we might have to find somebody else to do the visits to parents, though. Warren still has to work."

Raven waves that away. "Moira can do that, if need be." Her mouth twists bitterly. "They might listen to her better anyway, because she's human."

Sad, but likely true. Moira's mention stings; she still refuses his calls, though to be honest, Charles isn't trying very hard. It's her narrow-mindedness that caused the rift between them, and he can't just let some of the things she said about Erik go – not without addressing them first. Past experience has shown that that doesn't end too well.

Thinking that that puts an end to this discussion, Charles nods and makes as if to get up; he's been feeling more and more tired lately. He needs to go to bed.

Raven apparently isn't finished yet, though. "There's something else you need to do," she says, and Charles slumps back in his armchair. Her voice has that tone to it that means she knows he won't like what she has to say, but she has no intention of backing down.

"You need to formally break up with Erik," Raven tells him, eyes trained on his face.

Reeling from the shock of that, Charles at first has no idea how to react – break up with Erik? _Why?_ He'd never- and what does she mean, 'formally'? They're not even anywhere close to breaking up. "What?", he eventually manages to croak. He's not angry, not yet, but if this is another diatribe against Erik…

"It's obvious you don't want him involved in this, or you would have told him immediately," Raven declares. "You're pregnant now, Charles. It was your business if you want to be in that kind of relationship, but now that there's a child involved, it's not anymore. Children need stability."

Oh, that's it. Charles is absolutely furious. "Erik and my relationship is stable," he retorts. "We love each other, and it's really none of your business whether or not I told him yet!"

"Just because you love him doesn't mean he loves you too!", Raven yells; Charles is taken aback. He would never have thought she was this emotionally involved in their relationship, and she's not even finished yet. "That you didn't tell him yet is really saying all there needs to be said about it, Charles, and if you told him and he didn't come immediately to be there for you and support you, then clearly he is not fit to be a father and should be kept away from the baby!"

Charles balls his fists, taking a couple of calming breaths before he resorts to shouting too. "I really don't know what your problem with Erik is, Raven," he says after a moment.

"My problem is that you're not having a problem," she spits. "There's so much wrong with your relationship and you won't even see!"

"There's nothing wrong for me!", Charles replies hotly – so much for staying calm. "I don't need him to be affectionate in public, I don't need him here all the time – yes, I miss him when he's gone, but I'm perfectly capable of not being with him for a couple of weeks."

"And one day he won't come back, what will you do then? He's over seventy years old, Charles, no matter that he still looks thirty at most. You're twenty-eight. Do you honestly think he'll really stay with you?"

"Yes," Charles replies simply. Then he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath; it's obvious now that he should have told her before – Erik had told him he should tell her, but Charles hadn't wanted to. He couldn't even really explain why; maybe because he didn't want her to slip away from him even further.

He opens his eyes again and says, "I'm omega-level too, Raven."

Raven flinches and pulls away, looking completely shocked. Twisting his fingers, Charles looks at her for a moment; then he can't bear it anymore and averts his eyes. Erik had offered to be there for him when he told her, and Charles had wanted him to, even knowing that it would be better if he weren't. He had thought that this would be difficult enough for Raven without Erik there, whom she almost considers a personal enemy. He certainly hadn't planned for it to happen like this.

The silence stretches between them endlessly, until Raven finally, finally says, voice raspy and hoarse, "It's proven?"

Such a thing is hard to prove, of course, especially since Charles is still relatively young and has lived a comparably sheltered life, but yes, Charles had been to see Emma, and she had confirmed Erik's suspicions. He nods, still not daring to look at Raven. "Yes."

Raven doesn't say anything for a moment, but out of the corners of his eyes Charles sees her shoulders hitch. That startles him so much (during all the time he had known her, he had never seen her cry, not once) that turns his head to look at her. Her hands are covering her mouth, and her face is twisted.

Before he can reconsider, Charles quickly gets up and perches on the arm of the armchair she's seated in, wrapping one arm around her shoulders. She immediately turns into him, pressing her face into his stomach; her shoulders are shaking, but her eyes remain dry.

After a long moment, she pulls her hands away from her mouth, curling them to fists in her lap. "I don't know if this is a good thing or not," she murmurs into Charles' shirt, pain audible in her voice.

"To be honest, I don't know either," Charles replies, biting his lower lip; he doesn't. On the one hand, it's good for the school because that means there won't be a change in administration for a long time, but on the other hand… everybody he knows will die eventually, except for a rare few. To this day, there are only three known omega-level mutants – four now, including Charles. It's not difficult to do the math; he doubts he'll be so lucky to be able to keep those he loves most.

They sit like that for a long time, Raven's face buried in his sweater, Charles with one arm wrapped around her shoulders. After a while, he starts carefully carding his fingers through her bright red hair; he loves that color. It looks brilliant against the blue tone of her skin.

Eventually, though, Raven pulls away. "Well," she says, voice a little scratchy, "That changes things." She takes a deep breath. "I thought he was taking you away from me, but you are already gone, aren't you?"

Charles is shocked; he has no idea what she's even talking about. "What do you- Raven." He cups her face, rubbing his thumbs over her rippled cheeks. "I love you," he says, a little helpless; he doesn't understand what's going on. "You're my sister. I'll always love you. Nobody and nothing can change that."

She huffs a little laugh, and now, there are actually tears in her eyes, though they don't fall yet. "Not even if I went evil and killed a lot of people?"

"Not even then." Charles is serious. Leaning down, he presses a kiss to her forehead. "And Erik doesn't want to take you away from me. He would never… he lost all his family, Raven. He had a little sister too; he would never purposefully do anything to separate us." In fact, Charles has the suspicion that one of the minor reasons why Erik leaves from time to time is that he knows Raven doesn't like him and wants to give her and Charles some time alone every now and then.

Raven hesitates for a moment, but then she nods. "I… I need to think about this," she says, and Charles can completely understand that. He himself hasn't gotten used to the thought yet either, and he's known for months – though most of the time, he prefers not to think about it at all.

They go their separate ways after; Charles heads to his and Erik's rooms and slumps on the bed. He's exhausted, physically as well as emotionally; it's not even that late yet. He should just go to sleep, but he can't; the thoughts and feelings are tumbling around in his head, and he just needs to hear level Erik's voice now.

Putting on his pajama, Charles crawls into bed and takes the mobile phone Erik gave him out of his nightstand. There's no new messages, but Charles hadn't really expected any; Erik sent him a photo yesterday of fireworks with the caption "Japantag, Düsseldorf", so he likely won't contact Charles again for at least a couple of days. Normally Charles wouldn't call him at this time; it must be three am in Germany right now, and Erik would be asleep. But Charles just needs to speak to him, if only for five minutes.

As expected, Erik sounds sleepy and confused when he answers. "Charles?", he mumbles, clearly not really awake yet.

"Erik," Charles replies, and somehow his voice manages to wobble on these four letters alone.

"Charles?", Erik says again, sounding a lot more alert all of a sudden. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, really," Charles says, voice a little higher than normal. Erik growls, but before he can call him on it, Charles continues. "I just… I told Raven."

Erik is silent for a moment; then he curses – at the general situation, Charles knows, not at him. "I thought you wanted to wait?"

"I did, but somehow… we had a fight," he explains, pulling the blanket over his head so all he sees is darkness, all he hears is Erik's breathing. "And she… she said she doesn't believe you'll stay with me, that you… that you're as emotionally involved as I am."

"So you told her," Erik infers.

"Yes. I thought… it's the age difference that bothers her so much; she doesn't think we're equals – or at least that you don't think we're equals."

Erik hums and then falls silent for a moment. "How did she react?"

Charles closes his eyes against the memory. "She's devastated. She said she needs some time to think about it, but she… she said…" He takes a deep breath, and another. "She said that she thought you were taking me away from her, but now she sees that I'm already gone."

"She didn't mean it like that," Erik replies immediately.

"No, she didn't," Charles agrees. "Not like that. But she meant it." He curls up, one hand on the mobile and the other automatically settling on his belly. His breath hitches as he realizes that this would be a moment to tell Erik about that, but he doesn't want to – he wants to tell him face to face. It's why he hasn't said anything yet.

"Do you want me to come?", Erik asks. He sometimes does that, and Charles knows he means it. Normally, he replies something like, "I would like for you to be here, but I don't _require_ it" and sometimes Erik comes, and sometimes he doesn't.

He means to say it now too, but his breath hitches again, and what comes out instead is a plaintive sounding "Yes."

Immediately, there is movement on the other end of the line; Erik gets up, and from the sound of things, starts to pack – Charles hears wardrobe doors and the sound of Erik's duffle's zipper being opened. He wants to take it back, but he doesn't. He really needs Erik right now.

"I'll be in Chicago tomorrow evening, and in Westchester the morning after," Erik informs him over the phone, and Charles nods. It can't be helped; there's no way Erik could be here sooner.

For a while, he just listens to Erik move around in his hotel room, pack his things; even just that has a calming effect on him. "I liked the photo you sent me yesterday," he says eventually, mostly because he thinks he should say something, though it's true – he did like the photo. Even more he had liked that Erik had thought of him, wanted to share, but that's neither here nor there and how he always feels when Erik sends him a photo or a short text.

"It was by far not the most interesting thing I saw two days ago, but it was certainly the prettiest," Erik replies. That pleases Charles even more; that Erik saw something beautiful and wanted to share it with him.

"How are you doing?", he asks after a moment. He doesn't always ask that question, because he generally expects Erik to tell him things on his own – which he does – but this is Düsseldorf, the city Erik was born and grew up in. It's not the first time Erik's been back, of course, but still.

"Fine," Erik replies. Then he hesitates and amends, "Alright."

Charles nods and licks his lips. "I miss you."

Erik doesn't say it back; he never does, but Charles doesn't need him to. The way Erik is with him, the way he touches and holds Charles when he gets back tells him all he needs to know on that front.

"I'm going to call a taxi now," Erik says instead. "Wait a second."

Charles does, patiently listening while Erik calls a taxi company with his other mobile phone, the one that he doesn't keep just for Charles. "I like hearing you speak German," he tells Erik when Erik hangs up.

Erik huffs a laugh. "I know. Ich würde ja immer deutsch mit dir reden, aber leider verstehst du mich dann nicht."

"I have no idea what you just said." He can't get into Erik's head right now; if he were here, Charles would be able to find out what he means just from his surface thoughts, but Erik closes himself off completely as soon as he leaves the safety of the manor, and the distance is a factor too. Charles is glad that he gets that much in the first place; he can only imagine how difficult even that must be for Erik, after everything that happened to him. He had honestly never expected for Erik to thin the metal walls surrounding his mind just enough to let Charles in at least a little. Not after what Erik went through with Emma manipulating him for years.

"En français, à la place?"

Now Erik is just teasing him. Charles huffs in mock-annoyance, which makes Erik give a little laugh.

"I see I need to learn another language too just to defend myself," Charles complains.

"Liebling, you speak Latin and Genetics, neither of which I am remotely fluent in," Erik returns with amusement.

"And yet I'm clearly outnumbered. You are fluent in five languages and can manage at least two more."

"Niedostatek wiedzy to rzecz niebezpieczna," Erik returns; before Charles can react, Erik laughs and promises, "I'll stop now. So, how's the school going?"

Erik doesn't ask just to distract Charles; he's honestly interested. He's completely behind the idea of Charles opening a school exclusively for mutants; in fact, it's that idea that brought them together in the first place, really. Erik would never have sat down to talk to Charles if Charles hadn't asked for his input that mutant conference over two years ago, not with a stranger, especially not with a telepath. He still hadn't really given an answer to Charles' job offer of him becoming a teacher (history and languages), but Charles hasn't given up hoping. They still have half a year before they really need to find staff, after all.

They talk about the school for half an hour; Erik puts a stop to it when Charles gets interrupted by his own yawns more and more often. He sends him to sleep with the promise that he'll be there as soon as possible, and Charles is reluctant, but he hangs up in the end. Erik is in a taxi, and he'll be at the airport soon, and then it will be almost a whole day of flying across the globe, but he'll be there soon.

When Charles wakes up, he's still curled up under the blanket, and his mobile is vibrating where he's rolled half on top of it. Confused, Charles gropes for it, but it only vibrates once; Erik isn't calling him. Instead, he's sent another photo, this one of an airport; Charles can see ticket booths and the sloping ceiling. Airports tend to look the same, but he figures this must be Heathrow. Düsseldorf, he knows from photos Erik has sent him, goes more for white – white floors, white braces. Heathrow's floors are grey like in the picture, and this he knows because he's been there.

Still sleepy, Charles doesn't think much; he pulls the blanket away and takes a picture of himself. He knows he'll regret it as soon as he sees what he actually looks like, but he sends the picture before he can reconsider. A moment later, his phone rings, and he picks it up, voice still rough from sleep. "Yes?"

"Three hours layover," Erik informs him. "I'm bored."

"I just woke up," Charles replies; it somehow seems like a suitable answer. Absently, he digs one of the salty crackers he keeps in his nightstand out; the sickness has been coming and going lately, and right now he feels fine, but he'd rather not take any risks.

"I could tell. Lovely hairstyle you're wearing." Erik snorts.

Charles swallows the cracker and raises an eyebrow. "I just woke up," he repeats, but this time he means something entirely different.

Erik is silent for a moment. "Charles…", he then warns.

Biting his lower lip, Charles shifts onto his back and pushes his pajama top up a little so he can run his fingers over his belly. "I do have a morning routine," he informs Erik archly.

"You are not going to give me an erection in the middle of an airport." Erik's voice is firm.

Not that Charles cares. Erik means it, but not really; he would hang up if he did. He hasn't, and so Charles just sighs and slides a hand into his pajama pants, wrapping it around his morning erection. "I dreamt we were in my office," he tells Erik, which is not true, strictly speaking; he doesn't tend to have sex dreams, which is a shame, really. "You had me bent over my desk and were fucking me really slow."

Across the Atlantic, Erik's breath hitches; Charles can hear it over the phone, and he squeezes his dick and starts to slide his hand up and down.

"I was on the phone, and we had to be really quiet," Charles spins the scenario further, moaning at the pleasure coursing through his body.

"You have no shame," Erik growls, and Charles moans again. He really doesn't; it's a side-effect of being able to read everybody's minds all the time. People think about sex so often Charles has lost about all inhibitions. He isn't exhibitionistic at all, and Erik is the opposite of it if anything, but they both really like talking about hypothetical scenarios.

Charles makes a show of it as he jerks off, gasping and moaning loudly; Erik mutters something in rough German, sending shivers down his back. "Say it again," he gasps breathlessly, thumb flicking over the head, smearing precome.

"Du kannst was erleben wenn ich nach Hause komme," Erik tells him, voice low and raspy. It makes Charles groan; he has no idea what Erik is saying, but the intent is obvious in his voice.

"More," Charles whimpers, fingers tightening; he's close, so close.

"Nichts macht mich so scharf wie du," Erik growls lowly, and Charles groans and comes all over his fist.

He lies there for a while, just catching his breath; on the other end of the line, Erik is breathing heavily as well.

Erik gives him a moment, and then he growls, "Ich sitze hier mit einer Jacke im Schoß um meinen Ständer zu verbergen, und es ist alles deine Schuld." He sounds annoyed, but not in a bad way.

Charles shivers and sighs happily. "I love you."

That derails Erik; it always does. For a moment he's silent. "I'm going to be there tomorrow morning."

"Around lunchtime, more likely, what with getting your luggage and driving over here," Charles replies, reluctantly rolling off the bed to wash his hand. "Would you like for me to pick you up?" He has a conference call with Warren tomorrow to discuss what they need him to do, but he can easily shift it sometime else. Warren is a friend; if need be, they can even talk in the evening.

"No, it's okay, my car is there anyway. Just make sure you have the afternoon off, I owe you one."

Charles smiles lazily. "Indeed you do." Pinning the phone to his ear with his shoulder, Charles turns on the water to wash his hand.

Evidently hearing the water, Erik tells him, "Go take your shower, I'll find something to read."

Charles smiles and, after saying good-bye, they do just that. While in the shower he thinks about what Erik will bring back with him; usually it's books in multiple languages and a few little trinkets that he brings Charles like offerings – a coin, a pressed plant, a newspaper cut-out. Charles finds them between the pages when he reads those books he can understand.

He spends the day in a pleasant mood; every now and then Erik sends him a picture of the clouds from above, of his tasty airplane meal, of a floating spoon with the plane window in the background. Usually, he doesn't get that many messages from Erik, not even when he's on his way back; he doesn't quite know what to make of it, though he does enjoy it.

It also distracts him from the way Raven avoids looking at him, and from the ridiculousness that is Alex being overprotective. For some reason, Alex seems to feel like he's responsible for Charles' well-being; he brings him countless cups of decaf tea and small snacks that he made himself and, on one memorable occasion, a _pillow._ Charles takes a lot of calming breaths that day; it doesn't help that he gets his pregnancy sickness just after lunch that day and spends a portion of the afternoon running to the bathroom to empty his stomach. Alex fusses over him like there's no tomorrow, so Chares has to have a serious talk with him about how he's just twelve weeks along, he doesn't need pillows to support his back better, and the vomiting is going to happen no matter what anybody does. But not even reminding Alex that he's an adult, he's perfectly capable of taking care of himself, helps; he's half-tempted to tell Alex that Erik will be here soon anyway (Alex accepts anything Erik says), but seriously. He's thirteen years older than Alex; he doesn't need to be taken care of anymore, especially not by someone who's supposed to be his responsibility.

In the evening, Erik calls again; he sounds absolutely exhausted, and Charles sends him to bed immediately – he knows Erik can't really sleep with people moving around him, and he's been up for almost twenty-four hours by now. After they've hung up, he puzzles over this new clinginess of Erik's – they really aren't usually in that close contact when Erik is away. They talk on the phone once, twice a week usually, and Erik sends him photos he takes with his mobile every now and then. Charles usually returns the photos with photos of his own – the children, or something he's doing at that moment. He doesn't really think it's that exciting, the photos he sends, but Erik once told him that he likes it; likes the reminder of home. Charles still gets that warm and fuzzy feeling at the memory, at the fact that Erik called the manor "home".

He has a feeling he wouldn't be able to fall asleep as easily if he weren't perpetually tired these days; fact of the matter is that Erik wakes him up at around six am with a picture of an airplane shrouded in twilight. After that, Charles can't really sleep anymore; he's too excited, both because Erik's going to be home in a few hours and because he really doesn't know what Erik will say about this pregnancy. They've never talked about having children; Charles hadn't even thought about it. He's been planning to open this school for about three years now; in eighteen month's time, he'll hopefully have dozens of children. He's honestly never thought about having biological ones.

During his conference call with Warren, he has to make an effort to concentrate on the topic at hand, unfortunately. They had already scheduled it later in the day so Charles can deal with the morning sickness first – not that it really works that way. Eating salty crackers helps a little, at least when it actually strikes him while he's still in bed, but today he gets sick over breakfast – it's the eggs, he just hates the smell of eggs, especially raw ones. The nausea comes back in waves, but thankfully Raven is there to take over if Charles needs to make a beeline for the bathroom, and today she will at least look at him.

Warren is glad to help; Charles doesn't tell him yet why exactly they need him for this all of a sudden when before, Charles had been the one to take care of it. The next person he's going to tell is Erik; he's not going to let anybody else know until Erik knows. He's already wondering whether he shouldn't have waited telling the children until he told Erik, but it's too late for that now.

He feels the moment Erik enters his normal range, the area of which he is naturally aware of. Erik knows it too; he doesn't thin his shields yet, but Charles feels his tempo accelerate.

From that point on, his concentration is gone; he excuses himself from Warren for not the first time this call. Warren thinks he has a stomach bug and doesn't mind; he's pleasantly chatting to Raven about whatever. Most of the formalities have been cleared by that point, so it's not like they need him anymore anyway.

Charles doesn't need to wait for long at the manor's main entrance before Erik rolls in. He looks pretty hot in his black turtleneck, black sunglasses and black convertible, but Erik seems to be making a habit of looking hot twenty-four seven without even trying.

The car comes to a halt and Erik gets out; he doesn't even make the effort of closing the car door, just pulls off his glasses and gloves and throws them into the backseat as he makes his way over to Charles. Charles for his part strides over and practically throws himself at Erik, who catches him with a huff and wraps his arms securely around his body.

For a while they stand just like that; Charles gets used to the feeling of Erik's body against his again, breathes in his smell – cars and airports, his own personal smell underneath. Erik slowly runs his hand up and down Charles' back, nuzzling the side of his head, not saying a word.

Eventually Charles pulls away a little, but only enough to pull Erik into a slow kiss that Erik returns enthusiastically. "How was your flight?", Charles asks when he pulls back.

Erik shrugs. "Alright." He likes being in airplanes, Charles knows; surrounded by all that metal he feels more secure than anybody else probably would be able to. It's not important a topic for him. "How are you?", he asks instead, cupping Charles' face with both hands to look at him searchingly.

Sucking his lower lip into his mouth, Charles pulls up one shoulder. "Okay," he replies, though he's still feeling a bit nauseous. He puts his arms on Erik's waist and leans up to give him a quick kiss. "Are you hungry?"

Erik is, so they go to the kitchen to have a snack; Charles eats some of the salty crackers that have suddenly appeared in all the rooms he occasionally spends some time in. He strongly suspects Alex having something to do with it.

After Erik has eaten, he goes to get his luggage and drive the car into the garage; Charles heads over to their rooms to meet up with him there. He takes the photo of the ultrasound out of his nightstand and throws himself onto the bed, staring at it and trying to figure out how to tell Erik.

When he feels Erik approach he sits up, legs crossed, and tugs the photo under the pillow just as Erik enters the room. As soon as Erik spots him, a slow smile appears on his face; it's not particularly predatory, not what Charles was expecting, but it still sends shivers down Charles' back.

Dropping the duffle, Erik steps out of his shoes and climbs onto the bed, pressing his face to Charles'. Charles wraps both arms around Erik's waist and pulls him into his lap; Erik goes willingly, wrapping his arms around Charles' shoulders and pulling his head against his chest. They sit like that for a moment, and Charles relaxes gradually, Erik's heartbeat in his ear.

"What's going on?", Erik asks eventually, slowly carding his fingers through Charles' hair.

Charles turns his face and nuzzles Erik's chest; then he sighs and pulls back a little. Sliding out of his lap, Erik sits cross-legged in front of him, wearing a slight frown.

"Alright." Charles takes one of Erik's hands and turns it over; he still doesn't know how to say it, and so he turns to bluntness. "I'm pregnant."

Erik is completely silent for a moment. "What?"

Pulling up his shoulders, still unable to look Erik in the face, Charles elaborates, "It turns out I have a second mutation. I didn't know until…"

"How long?", Erik asks when Charles trails off, voice sharp.

Charles flinches, and Erik tangles their fingers, cups Charles' face with his free hand and tilts it up so Charles can't avoid looking him in the eyes anymore. Erik doesn't look angry; he doesn't look much of anything except incredibly confused.

Biting his lower lip, Charles hesitates for a moment before he replies. "A week."

Erik's face tightens. "Why didn't you tell me immediately?"

The problem is that Charles doesn't even really know the answer to that himself. "I don't know," he murmurs. "I just didn't… I don't know."

"If you tell me now that you didn't want to bother me…" Erik says, sounding irritated. Charles had only said that once, early on; Erik had been honestly pissed off, so Charles had never said it again, and tried really hard not to feel like it.

"No," he says now, and he's moderately sure that's not it. "I was just so confused; I never even thought about having children on my own, I never thought about pregnancy, and now here I am." He snorts and shakes his head.

Erik's grip on his hand tightens as he closes his eyes. "Oh Gott."

"Exactly." Charles closes his eyes as well.

They sit in silence while Erik processes, but after a while, Charles can't stand the quiet anymore.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier," he whispers. "I didn't mean to, I don't know why I didn't. I just… I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing," Erik orders, voice a little shaky. Suddenly, there are arms wrapped around Charles' body as Erik pulls him into his chest, hugs him tightly.

It's then that Charles realizes just how overwhelmed he's been feeling; it's not just the pregnancy thing, it's the baby thing. There's a _person_ growing inside Charles, someone who will spend many years being totally dependant on him – there's so much he could do wrong, so much he's likely _going_ to do wrong.

Erik holds him tight; Charles doesn't really cry, he just shakes like a leaf. It must really be freaking Erik out, because he rubs his hands soothingly up and down Charles' back and murmurs soothing things – that they can do this, they're going to be fine, it's a seriously big thing but they can do this.

And then, all of a sudden the wall that Erik mentally keeps himself behind drops, and Charles tumbles into his mind before he even knows that it's happening.

The first thing he registers is the fear – fear is an overwhelming emotion, and if someone feels it at all, it's what Charles will always feel first when entering a person's mind. Erik is scared; not just about voluntarily letting someone into his mind, though that's foremost, but also about the child, the future. He doesn't think he'd make a good father, doesn't think that at all; he worries that he won't make a good partner for Charles. It's that fear that makes him leave every now and then; that fear and simple habit. For many years – really since Eisenhardts fled Germany for Poland to escape the Nazis – Erik has been constantly in motion, moving from one place to another, never staying anywhere for long. He's scared of settling down, of calling a place home only for it to be taken from him again somehow as has happened before – he's scared that Charles one day will realize that Erik's by far not good enough for him, that he could have someone much better, someone less damaged who didn't do the things Erik did.

Charles gets all this in a moment, among a jumble of other, less urgent things – Erik is tired, he really missed Charles, his back hurts from those damn airplane seats, he likes the way Charles smells, he wonders how much more Raven hates him now and if she'll ever stop, if it bothers Charles, how the children are doing, and he doesn't understand why they seem to like him so much, and oh god a baby, they're going to have a baby, how is that even possible, though he's seen some really weird mutation in his life and this is not even remotely in the top ten, actually it somewhat makes sense, evolution would be so much more efficient if everybody were capable of carrying a child, and what does Charles think? Does he even want this, with Erik? They had never planned, had never even talked about-

"Yes," Charles whispers, "Yes, yes, yes. I do. I do want this. With you. Only with you." He pulls Erik into his own mind, thrilled to be able to do so; with the limited contact Erik had been comfortable with before, he had never quite dared bringing it up, because he hadn't been sure he would be able to manage to let Erik in whilst keeping them separate so Charles wouldn't accidentally slip into Erik's mind in return.

So he pulls Erik in, and he shows him that he wants this, that he's terrified but there's nobody else Charles would rather do it with; he had never even once thought that Erik maybe wouldn't be a good father. Shows him that Charles will always, always want Erik; that he wants him more than anything else, except maybe this baby that's growing inside him. _Their baby._

Eventually, they have to emerge from each other, pull apart again to settle into different people. Charles has never been as intimate as this with anybody in his life; intimacy normally has a way of tending towards one-sided for him, what with him being able to slip into people's minds completely effortlessly. He's never let anyone inside himself; nobody had ever asked. Erik hadn't either, Charles had just dragged him in, but he knows that Erik hadn't minded at all – that he, in fact, needed it as much as Charles did, the intimacy, the reciprocating.

"Charles," Erik murmurs, voice rough; he cups his face and presses a kiss to his forehead.

"I love you," Charles says, voice equally rough. Erik doesn't say it back; he's never said it back, but Charles doesn't need him to, especially not now.

"What's going to happen?", Erik asks then, and he's talking about the pregnancy. "To you, I mean."

"Well, they're not really sure, what with me being male." Charles winces. "There's a possibility I'll grow a vagina, though my hips don't have the right form or breadth to let a child through, and I might grow breasts." He flushes; he really hopes that won't happen, because he'd have no idea how to deal with that. Especially if it won't go away after the baby is out.

"Okay. What else?"

"Well, the usual." Charles attempts a shrug, aiming for nonchalance, but he probably misses by a mile. "I'll gain weight, probably around thirteen kilograms, though they really can't tell what with me being a guy. I'll, well." He waves his hand vaguely. "There'll be mood swings and headaches and weird cravings and possible incontinence and more sickness, among others. I have some brochures you can read."

"More sickness?", Erik repeats, pulling back so he can look Charles in the eye. "Are you alright?"

Charles shrugs again. "I get sick a lot sometimes. Right now it's mostly okay; I threw up some earlier, but I'm hoping it won't come back."

Erik nods slowly. "What about… what about the baby? Is everything alright?"

"Yes." Charles nods firmly. "It's about five centimeters long and weighs around ten grams – I'm circa twelve weeks along now. I'm seeing a perinatologist tomorrow, if you want to you can come with."

"Of course I want to be there." Erik seems disgruntled that Charles even thought he had to ask.

In apology, Charles leans in to kiss Erik lightly on the lips; before it can develop into more, he pulls back and reaches for the ultrasound under his pillow. "Here," he says, handing the photo to Erik. "That's it."

Erik takes the photo, and if his hands tremble a little, well, neither of them are going to mention it. "It's so… formed already," he says, sounding a little incredulous. "Wait, are you showing already?" He leans back to critically eye Charles' middle.

Trying really hard not to blush or cross his arms in front of his stomach, Charles lets him; he's not sure himself if he's showing already. He's always been a little softer around the middle, so the bump might just be ordinary weight gain. "I don't know," he replies belatedly.

Searching Charles' face for a moment – for what, Charles can't tell, and he doesn't want to go into Erik's head to find out even though Erik is still wide open for him – Erik nods. He cups Charles' cheek and leans in to press a soft kiss to his lips, and another, and one more.

"Are you scared?", Erik asks some time later. They're lying on their sides, facing each other, hair in disarray; one of Erik's hands is resting on Charles' waist.

"Of course I am," Charles replies. He has trouble keeping his eyes open, all of a sudden feeling quite sleepy. "There's so many ways I could screw this up."

"No way," Erik protests immediately. "Children love you. _Everybody_ loves you."

Charles can't even tell Erik how wrong he is; there are countless people who are incredibly uncomfortable in his presence, just because he's a telepath. He can even understand it to a point, but that's not what he meant.

"Loving someone doesn't preclude you from hurting them," he returns gently. Look at all the times he and Raven hurt each other; they love each other, but that doesn't make it better. If at all, it makes it worse; if you love someone, there are so many more ways they could hurt you.

"Charles." Erik's voice is firm and serious. "You won't screw it up; I don't believe that for a second. Stop worrying about it."

It's not that easy, of course; Erik can tell him that all he wants – can honestly believe it all he wants, and he does, he really does – it won't change how Charles feels.

But he can let it go for now; he's tired, Erik is tired. They could both use a nap. Once they've slept, they'll talk more, and they'll eat something and they'll make plans. But for now? They sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> Ich würde ja immer deutsch mit dir reden, aber leider verstehst du mich dann nicht. – I would speak in German with you all the time, but unfortunately you wouldn't understand me.
> 
> En français, à la place? – In French, instead?
> 
> Niedostatek wiedzy to rzecz niebezpieczna. - A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.
> 
> Du kannst was erleben wenn ich nach Hause komme. – You're going to get it when I come home.
> 
> Nichts macht mich so scharf wie du. – Nothing gets me as hot as you do.
> 
> Ich sitze hier mit einer Jacke im Schoß um meinen Ständer zu verbergen, und es ist alles deine Schuld. – I'm sitting here with a jacket in my lap to hide my boner, and it's all your fault.
> 
>  
> 
> Photos:
> 
>  [Japantag](http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3182/2653313840_5417a4ab20.jpg)
> 
>  
> 
> [Heathrow](http://www.theairporttaxicompany.co.uk/Uploads/Image/London_Heathrow_Airport-Airport-hd.jpg)
> 
>  
> 
> Erik's car: [Ferrari 250 GT California Spyder](http://i.telegraph.co.uk/multimedia/archive/01554/ferrari-250gt-cali_1554225c.jpg)
> 
> [Pictures of ultrasounds, 11 weeks along](http://www.google.co.uk/search?um=1&hl=en&client=firefox-a&rls=org.mozilla:en-GB:official&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=EbnWTsfaLIbA8QOR1_HwAQ&ved=0CDwQvwUoAQ&q=ultrasound+11+weeks&spell=1&biw=1000&bih=588) (google because I didn't want to just steal somebody's baby)
> 
>  
> 
> ETA:  
> The concept of omega-level mutants (I'm not the first to assign this label to Charles and Erik, just to clarify) comes from [here](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mutant_%28Marvel_Comics%29#Omega-level_mutants).


End file.
